


So Neighborly

by quiveringbunny



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4377788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiveringbunny/pseuds/quiveringbunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity notices some interesting developments during their first week in their new home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Neighborly

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short, fun piece about Oliver being a man about the house. It got a little longer than I expected. In part, it was inspired by Marc Guggenheim's response when asked if Felicity and Oliver had nicknames for each other. He responded ABSolutely and Lustmuffin. Read on. Hope you enjoy it!

They moved into the Tudor-style house on a weekend. The whole event was a blissful blur. Oliver never said the words aloud, but he loved that the house reminded him a little bit of the Queen Mansion with its stucco and beams. The events of recent years didn’t taint his childhood memories and being happy now reminded him that he had been happy then, blissfully unaware of the ills of the world. Still, this was a modest house with three bedrooms, not eight and it sat on .56 acres rather than an expanse worthy of a park.

Felicity had different reasons for loving the house. It was theirs. Not a rental, like all of the other places she had lived. An actual home with a foundation and a yard and a fireplace. And it was only 10 miles from Queen, Inc.’s headquarters in Starling City, which meant that she could take off her CEO hat at the end of the day and be wrapped in Oliver’s arms in less than thirty minutes in good traffic. An executive of her stature typically lived in an aspirational house, something large and impressive. But for Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak this house was aspirational, reflecting the warmth and coziness they aspired to in their life together.

Situated a third of the way down the block, the house on Collingwood made a nice impression from the tree-lined street, with its lush front yard, but upon closer inspection it was in definite need of TLC. During the showing, they huddled in the Master Bathroom shower for a long time whispering about all of the work that was needed as their realtor paced downstairs. Oliver insisted that he was keen to take on whatever tasks were required to make the house their home while she would be the breadwinner for the foreseeable future.

The house ticked many of the boxes on their want list, including passing the “shower test,” meaning they both fit in it comfortably. Unfortunately, the kitchen needed a major overhaul, the flooring had to be replaced in several rooms, painting was needed, a fireplace had to be fixed and the landscaping outside was in dire need. As Felicity rattled off each item, Oliver nodded seriously. At the end of the list, she looked at him and saw a grin overtake his lips. “Well,” she reasoned, “if you could make your own arrows on a remote island, you can probably handle kitchen cabinets.” Then Oliver kissed her for the first time in what would be their new shower, pinning her against the wall for the first time until she softly slapped his arms and reminded him that it wasn’t their house yet.  

At first, Felicity hadn’t noticed anything unusual. The days following moving in had been particularly stressful at work, so Felicity was unable to take off to help around the house. Oliver insisted he didn’t mind, reminding her that she was bringing home the bacon, metaphorically, because she was Jewish. That made her laugh out loud because it was the kind of dumb joke she would make. She loved the unguarded Oliver Queen. When he made her laugh he always looked pleased with himself and usually there was a great kiss afterwards. And after the great kiss there was an encounter that left Felicity looking pleased also.

****

The first Monday night, she came home late. She wasn’t expecting a hot dinner, but Oliver surprised her. The rustic dining table was nicely set. Skewers of cherry tomatoes, mozzarella and basil, drizzled with balsamic vinaigrette adorned a plate. Red wine filled two glasses. Felicity grabbed one of the kebabs and moved to the kitchen where she found the former vigilante using is well-earned knife skills on a baguette.

“Oh my God, it’s huge,” she squealed. Oliver put the knife down with a laugh.

“Felicity,” he sighed and shook his head with a smile. “You know you can say things like that upstairs too.”

“Well, it is. And it’s gorgeous.” She approached the new stainless refrigerator with awe.

“True. But I’ll take credit for picking it out.”

“It’s almost too big.”

Oliver smirked and folded his arms across his chest. “Stop.” Felicity laughed and approached him, still holding her appetizer.

“Mmm, and he cooks too,” she giggled, her mouth full of silky cheese. Oliver leaned forward with a grin and sampled the flavors on her lips. 

“Actually, I can’t take credit for those. Generous neighbor brought it by to welcome us.”

“Really? That’s so nice.”

Later, over ravioli in a zesty puttanesca sauce, Felicity related the day’s trials to him. Power struggles with Human Resources. Budget meetings that numbed her brain. “I may have used my loud voice once, but you know, after ten Powerpoint slides, I’m ready to punch something. Maybe that’s why they call it a slide deck. How did things go here?” She was keen to change the subject.

“Pretty well. I stripped the wallpaper in the powder room. Fridge came. Ordered the tile. Then, I found hedge clippers in the garage. After a little sharpening…”

“Which you so happen to know how to do…”

Oliver laughed. “I trimmed the bushes by the driveway.”

“Ah, I noticed there weren’t any branches dangling when I pulled in. That’s wonderful. You got a lot done.”

That evening was spent curled up in front of the television. Felicity fell asleep during the third episode of some series on the History Channel and Oliver carried her upstairs. It felt good to be initiating new routines.

****

Felicity noticed the fresh-baked muffins for breakfast a couple of days later.

“Oliver, I know you are applying yourself in the kitchen, but I have a hard time imagining you’ve graduated to blueberry muffins.” She groaned in pleasure. “So good.”

“No,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “I have not graduated to muffins. They were a gift from another neighbor. I was weeding the front bed and the neighbors next door, the ones with the dog that sleeps all the time, needed some help moving some porch furniture. Muffins were offered in trade.”

“Baked goods as currency. That should be a thing. You know, when we chose the house we thought about so many factors, but having nice neighbors wasn’t something we could really plan for. I’m so relieved.”

“Mmm hmm,” Oliver noticed a crumb lodged in the corner of her mouth and went about rescuing it with a kiss that made Felicity drop the rest of her muffin and curl her arms around his neck.

****

That night, Felicity came home to Oliver and a turkey casserole for dinner accompanied by a bottle of wine she didn’t recognize from their small cellar. The former Bratva captain had been busy most of the day sanding the front porch and painting the powder room, so she knew he hadn’t made the meal. The former billionaire looked a little tired, but not exhausted like he had been following his ordeal with the League. This kind of weariness suited him. She admired his satisfied smile and the way his paint-stained sweatpants looked, loosely cinched at his waist.

“We should probably have a barbecue at some point to thank the neighbors,” she announced. Oliver agreed and poured the last of the bottle of Pinot Noir into her glass. That night they did dishes together. Oliver had a lot higher tolerance for hot water, so he washed while Felicity dried and put the clean plates and glasses away.

“The paint looks good.”

“Yeah. It makes the bathroom look bigger.”

“I meant it looks great here,” she pressed her fingers against cotton and muscle and traced the blue smears that were now dried on his thighs and hips. The touches led to a lingering kiss. As it ended, Felicity leaned up to rub her nose against Oliver’s. “I think you deserve a massage tonight.”

Oliver’s tired eyes brightened. “A regular massage or a birthday massage?”

Felicity’s face feigned surprise. “Is it your _birthday_ …again, Mister Queen?”

“Maybe,” he smiled innocently. Felicity pulled him toward the stairs by the elastic of his pants.

****

On Friday, Felicity made a deliberate effort to deflect the crazy at the office and leave at 3 pm. She had arranged take out from their favorite Indian restaurant picked it up on her way home. Turning into the neighborhood, she marveled at the light-drenched lawns and the romantic sweep of Weeping Willow trees.

Felicity slowed down when she reached their street, respecting the posted speed limit. It was then that she happened to see the first woman standing out on a porch, leaning on a railing. At another house a lady in her 50’s sat on her front stairs nursing an iced tea. As she passed the house next door to theirs, she saw a redhead, overdressed in perfectly coordinated capri pants and a tank top potting geraniums on her porch.

The thing that Queen Inc’s CEO found most curious was not that all of these women happened to be out in the late afternoon, but that all of their eyes seemed trained on her house. As she pulled into the driveway, she saw what currently fascinating the neighborhood.

It was Oliver, shirtless and glistening, blue jeans casually clinging to his hips as he pushed a mower across their lawn. He seemed to be moving in slow motion, each muscle showcased by sunshine and shadow. The result approximated the salmon ladder, but seemed more decadent in the light of day. Felicity blinked, processing the scene and the events of the week. She leaned her head on the steering wheel and sighed, incredulous.

The roar of the lawn mower stopped. Felicity raised her head and saw him ambling toward her with a grin. He leaned into the open window, resting his arms on the edge. Felicity imagined she heard a collective gasp as the audience took in the new angle, his jeans likely straining down his lower back. She accepted his warm kiss before pulling away and offering him a raised eyebrow.

“You are absolutely terrible, Oliver Queen!” she hissed.  

He bit his lip before adopting a smirk. Just inches from her face, his blue eyes gleamed and he almost blushed.

“They’re harmless. Nice, really.”

“Oliver!”

“Hey, you liked the muffins too.”

“That was before I found out they were…lustmuffins.” Her tone was desperate and only made him smile more broadly.

“You’re my lustmuffin.” He leaned in again and softly brushed his lips against hers in kiss that lasted longer than expected and left Felicity panting. Afterward, he moved away and pulled the car door open. He took Felicity’s hand, helped her out of the car, and then shut the door.

He wasn’t expecting her to spin around and pin him against the car. Suddenly, her crisp white blouse was ruined against his moist chest and her black pencil skirt pressed hard against his groin. She cupped neck with one hand, pulling his head down so she could meet his mouth again. Her other hand traced the muscles along his torso. Oliver was surprised and immediately turned on by her passion and accepted it quite happily. His fingers raked through her golden hair and removed the tie that held it up. Eventually, Felicity’s tongue finally disengaged from his and she slipped away. He pulled her close and quietly spoke into her ear.

“Marking your territory, Ms. Smoak?”

“Yep.” She kissed his collarbone.

“We might never get another free casserole.” He pressed his lips against her jaw and rubbed her back with his palms. She slid her hands into his back pockets and squeezed.

“I can accept that. You realize I’m going to have to become best friends with all of these women, just so they’ll feel too guilty to try to seduce you when I’m at work.”

Oliver pulled away and met Felicity’s blazing eyes with his own. He arranged her hair around her shoulders tenderly.

“You know you have nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” she smiled. “Help me get the takeout from the backseat?” Oliver nodded, moved to the back door of the car and reached inside for the take out bag and Felicity’s computer briefcase. She admired the view with a quiet smile. Hers. Undoubtedly.

As Oliver straightened up, Felicity caught the watchful eye of the redhead next door and smiled warmly. She offered a friendly wave and then turned with Oliver, heading toward the house.

From a distance, the ladies of Collingwood Lane observed their handsome new neighbor and the beautiful, stylish blonde. So that was Felicity, the woman in his life? For days they had enjoyed the novelty of his masculine energy in their orbit. They carefully assessed his skills and determined that he was practiced at laundry, inexperienced cleaning an oven and a home improvement stud. Still, he was completely besotted with this woman he never stopped talking about. Now, treated to the display of passion that took place in the front yard, it became apparent that their private life was white-hot.   

“I should probably finish the lawn.”

“I have something for you to finish inside, Mr. Queen.”

“Lustmuffin,” he growled.

Felicity swatted Oliver’s butt playfully, eliciting his laughter. Then, she hooked her finger in his belt loop and guided him toward the front door. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked the story. Comments are desperately welcome! Please check out my other stories.


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